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   I'm M.C.A. Hogarth, author and artist. I write fiction (science fiction, fantasy, romance, etc), nonfiction (mostly about business and parenthood) and draw pictures, mostly of dragons, elves and people in beautiful clothes. Below you can see some of what I'm doing currently, and check up on my status. Writing• Latest E-Fiction: Check out the fiction I have online, what order to read it in and where to buy it.
• Latest Paperback: Clays Beneath the Skies (Amazon) , a collection of seven short stories about the tri-sexed alien Jokka, including Strange Horizons Reader's Choice "Unspeakable." With foreword by Hugo Award-winning editor Susan Marie Groppi.
• Current Serial: Black Blossom. Return to Kherishdar and the mannered world of the Ai-Naidari aliens in this sequel to The Aphorisms of Kherishdar and The Admonishments of Kherishdar (follow at the black blossom tag). Updates weekly on Mondays.
• Most Recently Completed Serial: A Rosary of Stones and Thorns. Love, redemption, angels and humans. Also the Apocalypse, a grackle, four horses and a demon or two. (follow at the a rosary of stones and thorns tag). Art • Latest Project #1: The Three Micahs: A Column on Doing Business as an Artist. (tag: three micahs) Cartoon jaguars explain the challenges of being a creative professional. Updates on the 15th each month.
• Latest Project #2: The 100 Sketchbook Retrospective! (tag: 100 sketchbook retrospective) Fourteen years and over 9000 sketches later, walk with me down memory lane! Updates every month.
• Latest Sale: Originals are for sale here. Prints are available from ImageKind. My Zazzle store is here for mugs and shirts and bags and such! Otherwise you can keep up on my offers on Livejournal through my "sale" tag.
• General:
If you have a lot of spare time and haven't browsed it yet, I have over 3000 images available on my website, sketches, paintings and comics. Cons: Anthrocon 2012, NecronomiCon 2012 StatusBalance Card 5-Card Readings: Available Balance Card Keepsake Paintings: Available Commissions: Not taking them. Illustration projects: Not taking them. P.O. BoxEmail me for my address, if you'd like to request materials or send a tip or donation.Stardancer Home.
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We continue Black Blossom, the novel that follows The Aphorisms of Kherishdar and The Admonishments of Kherishdar. It is a form of quasi-communal storytelling, as described here. Feel free to ask questions, converse or react as you wish in the comments; the Calligrapher and I are at your disposal, as time permits us both. And don’t fear… your questions are shaping the narrative. Read closely in the future and you may see yourself referred to there.
Black Blossom, Part 68
A Story of Kherishdar as Translated by M.C.A. Hogarth
I wept then, a small spill from my eyes. “I was afraid—”
He twisted out from under me and gathered my longer body against his. When I felt the evidence of his release I turned my face from his, feeling as if the world’s floor had fallen out from beneath me. I had forced the issue, and his body, and cross a boundary ajzelin are not to cross, and even if he had recognized it as Correction I felt the grief and risk of it…
It was as if he could read my thoughts… or more like, recognized how far into dismay I was. He cupped my face, thumb resting on the line of my jaw, and turned me back to face him. Then, soft as a blessing, he kissed my mouth with lips that were dry from gasping. And paused there, until he was sure that I understood him before he rested his brow against mine. We shared the same air; in that way, he calmed me, until my shaking subsided and we breathed in the same rhythm, chests lifting in tandem.
“I didn’t mean…”
He smiled and touched my mouth, quieting the words. “You think I would mistake that for a lover’s touch? Farren. I am Shame.”
“Was it truly… did it truly…”
“Yes,” he said, closing his eyes and sighing. Such relief in that sigh, and in his eyes when he opened them. “Yes. You saw a wound, and intuition guided your answer.” He looked at me, brows lifting just a little. “You have had experience in this.”
“Yes,” I said slowly. “A young Noble, who was given to me for Correction. I… I painted her pelt as she read from her caste-law book. With ink that stung.”
“Ahhh,” he said, closing his eyes, for all the worlds as if he had had a drink of some exquisite wine. “Beautiful. A work of art…”
“I failed her,” I interrupted, before he could grow too enamored with my methods. “She sinned again.”
He opened his eyes again. “In the same way?”
“N-no,” I said, drawing the word out.
“Then you did very well for one unschooled, amazingly so,” he said. “I have a staff, Farren, to do research and interviews with me. When someone is finally given to my attentions, their sins are so significant that there is a history there to be uncovered. Without doing that work, my own Corrections would also fail. One cannot understand an Ai-Naidari heart by assuming it is like all the rest, and working from that assumption.”
I thought of all the books in my chest and flushed at the ears.
“To Shame is given permission to shatter a soul,” Kor said, touching my lower lip to draw my focus back to him. “My trials have removed all the limits on my tools, and I can use them to violate a person, body and spirit, entire. I cannot wield that power without knowing that I have done everything possible to understand how much of it is needed. I have trained for this for nigh unto my entire life, Farren. Don’t measure yourself against that standard.”
“I will if it means I may have hurt what we have,” I said.
“You haven’t,” he said. “If anything, you have put us more firmly in our place.”
“Ajzelin—” I began.
“Are not lovers, and you are not mine,” he said. He lifted his brows again. “Did you enjoy my release?”
It seemed unbearably rude to admit I’d found the situation repulsive. “I—”
“Did you even watch my face when I climaxed?” he asked.
I flushed. “That would have been rude!”
“Even for the artist, who loves sight so?” he asked, his voice gentle but, I noted with growing irritation, amused.
“I couldn’t,” I said, scowling at him.
“I am so unbeautiful in bed,” Kor said with a sigh of patently false dismay. I slapped his flank with my tail, an act which was rude in the extreme, and it made him laugh. “No, Farren. You like your lovers female.”
“And you,” I said, with sudden, piercing insight, “like them younger!”
He grinned then. “I fear so. Though Ajan is very near the border of too young.”
“But not over it,” I said, hiding my glee.
“But not over it,” he admitted, charming in his defeat.
I drew in a breath again. He really was completely at ease with me, so I had not destroyed what we had. But one thing remained to be spoken, though I feared it would undo all that I had gained. “You thanked me for my Correction, Kor… but I thought… only the Emperor could Correct Shame.”
His eyes flicked up to mine, abrupt. “Who gave you my journals, Farren?”
I froze against him, and he slowly lifted his brows again, waiting.
“I… how…”
“You left one on the bedstand when I was sick,” he said. “I was not entirely insensate with you and Ajan waking me enough to dose me.”
I rolled my lip between my teeth and fretted at it as he spoke, then slicked my ears back. “I swear to you, Qenain really did ask for you.”
“But only me,” Kor said, quietly.
I drew in a deep breath. “Thirukedi sent me to you. To heal you.”
“And you have,” he said, voice gentle. “And you are. Farren… you are His hand on me. Do you think He didn’t know what I would need?”
“No,” I said softly. “He knows all our hearts.”
“And He knew mine,” Kor agreed. “Yours was the body, Farren. His was the Correction. So we are all made His instruments, if we are willing, and our hearts can stand the glory.”
“Which,” I said slowly, “is what this was about for you, wasn’t it. You wanted to be Shame to be His instrument. And it wouldn’t do but for you to be the strongest and most versatile instrument possible.”
“Because He needs all that we can give Him, and because His people deserve no less than everything that can be given to them,” Kor agreed, his voice gentle. “Do you understand, then? The trials?”
“And your ambition?” I said, daring to tease him a little in return on a subject that was, frankly, so vast and so intimate that I could barely look at it.
“And my ambition,” he agreed.
“A little more,” I said. “But I think I shall still call you a masochist.”
He mmmed. “Only if doing so involves you petting me all over again.”
“Without the Correction,” I said, rueful.
“Without the Correction,” he agreed.
He looked so contented there, with his hand resting on my upper arm and his head pillowed next to mine. I could hardly imagine the emotional resilience needed to return from what I’d done to him so quickly. “Kor?”
“Mm?”
“You are sure you’re not offended?”
“Offended!” Kor said, opening his eyes. “Why would I be?”
“That I hid this from you. That I am… proof of a sorts that you were in need. That you were weak.”
He blew out a breath and shook me lightly by the shoulder. “We’re all weak, Farren. That’s why we need one another.” Resting a hand on my chest, he said, “I’m not offended at all. I’m grateful. My master, the god of Civilization, has extended me a gift. I will cherish it as He intended.”
“I do think I love you,” I said, my voice hoarse.
“I know that I love you,” Kor said, smiling, and pulled me closer, and this time I did not feel the tackiness at his hips as a brand.
***
And the formal words exchanged at last.
And this scene isn’t over yet! But fortunately, Friday we will have another.
You can also subscribe, or email for a mailing address to send a physical donation.
Mirrored from MCAH Online. Tags: ai-naidar, black blossom, serial, writing
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Since it’s been on my mind, and since several of you evinced interest… here’s the first eight pages or so of the faerie farmer novel. I note that as usual, my attempt to do urban fantasy failed on all levels: instead of a snarky human woman narrator with intimacy problems and a yen for killing supernaturals, I went with… a sincere inhuman male narrator who wants nothing more than to marry and have kids. It’s not even set in a big city. Typical. -_-
Excuse any weird typos/issues, this is an unedited first draft!
***
Chapter 1
I arrived to wage genetic warfare on humanity beneath the light of a yellow moon, leading an ornery brown cow and followed by six irritated chickens. The chickens were irritated because I’d been walking all night. The cow, on the other hand, was always ornery.
I’d bought this property sight unseen, assured by the sallow man who’d sold it to me that it was a fixer-upper packed with potential, with a river cutting through the lot corner, a huge field of wild wheat, a house, barn and chicken coop and “forest access.” Naturally, I’d anticipated a choked stream, a half acre of weeds, a ramshackle handful of buildings and a few trees. Still, I hadn’t quite expected the complete rooflessness of the barn and homestead.
“Well, then,” I said. The chickens ignored me and wandered out into the yard, to sleep or eat as whim struck them. The cow was not amused, but her mood improved greatly when I cleared out a stall for her and filled her troughs. At least the feed I’d ordered had been delivered… and hadn’t been rained on.
I sat on the part of the fence that hadn’t fallen yet and looked out on the unkempt field, which at least was as large as promised: not the half acre I’d imagined but a good twenty. I liked its wild face, and how it glowed like silver with wrought black shadows sharp as spikes. I didn’t like that I was waiting here, by the field, instead of assessing the extent of the repairs I’d have to do to make the property livable. But it was a full moon, and a harvest moon at that, and it would be foolish not to expect a visit. Particularly since I’d been gone so long.
So I waited, patiently, in that half-aware state that the long-lived learn to pass the time, and eventually the hiss of fabric against boots drew me from my reverie.
A long nail caressed my neck. I didn’t move.
“The wanderer has bought a home.”
“As you see, Mistress,” I said.
“Does this mean he’ll finally take his responsibilities seriously?” she asked, still standing behind me where I couldn’t see her.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll do what I was sent to do.”
“You took some time in getting around to it,” she said with just a hint of cool anger.
“We have time,” I said. “I wasn’t ready yet.”
“And you’re ready now?”
“Yes,” I said, and thanked the powers that my mistress couldn’t read minds.
“Good!” she said, her humor improved. She walked around to lean on the nearest wooden post and share her secret smile with me. She was my mistress, and had been since she killed my last. Delorah she called herself, descended from the line of the Moon and Sleep and, some whispered, Death. She dressed fashionably for the age in a leather fetish corset over black leggings, with black boots and a coat made of spiderweb lace. Her short black hair, black lips and darkly fringed eyes wouldn’t have looked out of place in a nightclub, except on her it wasn’t cosmetics. She smelled like exotic perfume. Tasted like unadulterated peppermint extract. I have had the… privilege.
I didn’t like her much.
“Is there any news?” I asked politely, because she was still here.
“We’ve acquired three children,” she said.
“That’s good,” I replied.
“—but one of our women is pregnant,” she finished.
“Ah.” No need to ask by whom—or rather, by what. The cold fury of her voice told me all I needed to know. “So, what did you do?”
“Executed her lover,” Delorah said. “We’re waiting for the child to be born before killing her. If the baby survives, we’ll switch him in the cradle if there’s an appropriate infant.”
And if not, he would die with his unfortunate mother. That his mother might not have chosen to lie with the human who got his baby on her wasn’t of any moment to the powers that be among my kind. All that mattered is that this was a war and we must win it. Baby by baby.
“It’s not going well,” she said after a moment. “We’re looking to the Spring Folk to turn that tide.”
“Of course,” I said politely, because I was one of them and it would have been folly to disagree. Nor did I show her my dread, for her casual words were a promise that she would oversee my little experiment, probably personally.
“You’ll do your best,” she said.
“I will.”
“Better than your half-hearted, pathetic efforts on my behalf,” she said.
I didn’t look at her. “I’ll work my worthless tail off, Mistress.”
“You do that, “Elijah.” You do that.”
Her perfume withdrew, leaving the air clean. I took one shallow breath, just to be sure that she’d really left.
I didn’t want this assignment. But as one of the few of my kind, I had no choice. Strange how similarly the short-lived and the immortal clung to life, that they would do unsavory things to preserve it.
***
The fields needed mowing. I needed to clear out the stream, which was, in fact, as choked with weeds as I’d assumed. The chicken coop, though leaning to one side, was still erect, but both the barn and the homestead roofs needed repair. The utilities had been turned on, but half the lights were blown. The list went on and on, but I made it in the light of the new day, and my spirits rose with the sun. By mid-morning, I sat to rest on the dirt in the yard, watching as the wind ruffled the eye-watering brilliance of the shining grasses in the field.
I half-expected Meredith to caper out of the field. She would have loved this place in its exact state… and even after I’d shorn its wildness from its corners, she would have loved to live in the forest edge that abutted my pebbled stream. I imagined her, leaning against that far tree with her hair green as new leaves, peeping with paler ivy. Her eyes had been the delicate yellow of the youngest of shoots. We’d both been Spring people, and I’d served her out of love as well as necessity. People laughed and called us an unlikely pair; surely the line of the Wild and the line of the Field could never harmonize. They didn’t understand that the Wild and the Field both loved growing things, and that pairings had been built on more fragile commonalities.
For Meredith I would have gone to this task with a smile instead of a dense and darksome heart. But she would not thank me for sitting in a yard, ignoring my chickens and my ornery cow, and she would tease me about living in the storm cellar for want of a real roof, so I got to my feet, tucked my shopping list into my jeans pocket and started the chores so I could get to town. The cow didn’t put a hoof in my chest, though I could tell she thought about trying, and she kept her tail to herself instead of lashing my head with it… so it was a good day for cows.
I was just going out to check on the chickens when I found I wasn’t alone. Two people were standing at the gate to the yard. Had a random passerby observed the three of us he might have thought us the same age, which put the humans somewhere in their mid- to late twenties. The male had a mop of black hair and glasses that suggested a bookish nature I wouldn’t have guessed from his greyhound’s body. The female had dark brown skin and thin braids that fell past her shoulders. She had a basket balanced on one lean hip.
“So there is someone here,” I heard the male say to the female before he lifted his voice and called, “Good morning!”
“And to you,” I said, sauntering closer. I couldn’t see my own Glamour working, but I can tell by people’s reactions when it’s in effect. My supposed shape was short, solid and blond, a nondescript version of my actual self. I jazzed it up or dressed it down according to my surroundings. This town was definitely a dress-it-down sort of place. “My name’s Elijah Fields, and I just bought this farmstead.”
“Hi, Elijah,” the male said, holding out a hand. “I’m Louis and this is Beryl. We live closer to town.”
“In town, in my case,” Beryl said, waiting for Louis to let go of me before offering her own pink palm. I liked their grips, warm and silky with sweat. “I work at the seed and feed shop and Louis here fixes most of the machinery in the area.”
“Well, that’s handy to know,” I said. “I was planning on heading into town today. As you can see, my place is in need of some maintenance.”
“I’ll say.” Louis eyed the roof. “Did you sleep in that last night?”
“I’m afraid I did,” I said. “The bats kept me company.” Not a lie, either. Bats liked Delorah; her comings and goings tended to draw them.
“Ugh,” Beryl said. “Critters are fine. Outside, where they won’t mess your house.”
“There’s nothing in the house worth messing yet,” I said with a chuckle.
“Well, now there is,” Beryl said and handed me the basket. I took it by reflex—it was large—but I wished abruptly I hadn’t. Gifts given to my people bind, and I could feel the debt sinking onto me. Ah well. For the powers we were given, we had weaknesses in proportion. I glanced in the basket and found an odd assortment of items: chocolate, strawberry wine, bird seed, towels, even a water filter.
“It looks a little strange, but it’s a little bit of the best in town, plus some necessaries people don’t necessarily think they need,” Louis said.
“Thanks,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting a welcome wagon.”
“It wasn’t planned,” Beryl said. “It’s not like people ever move here. We were so surprised we just threw some stuff in a basket and brought it along. You know, an excuse to actually see if you were real.”
Strange choice of words. As I grinned, Louis elbowed Beryl without taking his eyes off me and said, “I don’t think we were supposed to say that part.”
“Aw, he doesn’t look like he’d mind.”
“I don’t,” I said. “Tell you what. Let me put this in the cellar where the strays won’t get to it and feed the chickens, and then I’ll walk back to town with you. I need to buy some light bulbs anyway.”
“And you’ll tell us why you moved here?” Beryl asked.
I glanced at her, bemused. “Is this so strange?”
“A little,” Louis said. “Almost all of us were born here.”
“And we’ll die here,” Beryl muttered.
There’s… about forty more pages of this, in which we start to see some small town vs. large town tension, and some racism, and learn why a faerie might prefer to live in a town full of Christians than with Pagans, and all sorts of other oddments.
To be honest, I’m kind of re-attracted to the thing. As if I don’t have enough to do. At least this one would be a standalone! And an urban fantasy! And a quasi-romance! If you’re into weird and awkward romances…
Okay, nevermind. -_-
Mirrored from MCAH Online. Tags: excerpts, faerie farmer, writing
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I remember vividly reading Anne McCaffrey for the first time. I was twelve years old, sitting in the glassed-in patio in our New Orleans house, with the bright syrupy sunlight of summer lying like a blanket on the patio furniture beside me. In my lap, I had an enormous copy of the New American Dictionary, a tome that dwarfed my legs. I kept it open and set the novel on top of it, and read it with an uncapped red pen in my hand. To my right I had an open spiral notebook.
Every few words, I would stop, painstakingly underline an unfamiliar word, leaf through the dictionary, read the definition and then copy it into my notebook. And then… I would resume reading from the beginning of the sentence with new understanding of the phrase but a rather interrupted sense of the narrative.
And I did that… for the entire book. It was full of red ink. But it was the only way to get through it, because it was so full of big words that twelve-year-old me knew she wouldn’t even grasp the story unless she did the work.
My kindle would have delighted young jaguar. Instead of having to go through all that trouble, she could have just highlighted the word with a pointer or finger and… pop! There’s the definition. And she could have merrily gone on reading with a lot less interruption; no hunting in a giant book, no copying so she could find it again faster, no uncomfortable weight on her lap.
As an older reader, when I ran into a word I didn’t know, most of the time I just skipped it and got what I could out of context before moving on. I didn’t (and still don’t) have Young Me’s tolerance for interruption. But since getting my kindle, I use the dictionary look-up feature constantly. Why be confused or have to make do with context? I think. I use it even on words I vaguely know, or think I know but want a refresher on. It’s fabulous. I love the look-up feature. I love it so much, apparently, that I take the habit with me off my e-book reader. I was reading a paper library book not long ago and ran into an unfamiliar word, and I touched it in full expectation of enlightenment.
Seriously. Not as a joke. It had become a reflex. “In response to confusion, touch for more information.” When nothing happened, my reaction was to be startled: the expected response had not happend! And then I was chagrined, and I kept reading, and caught myself starting to do it a couple more times.
(I did not go look up those words later, I’m sorry to say.)
A few days ago, my kindle spontaneously loaded a software update. Imagine my reaction to discover that when I highlight a word now, I can look it up… on Wikipedia. Wikipedia’s reliability is always an issue, of course. But now I think of all the historical personages referred to in the historical fantasies I’ve been reading, or the Sherlock Holmes mysteries that refer to traditions, current events, and locations I know nothing about, and have a moment of glee. At last! Context!
But still, that was not the coolest thing I got with that software update. That one I found when I ran into a foreign word I was fairly sure was Spanish but had such a weird verb ending that I thought it might be Italian. I highlighted it with a ‘why not’ feeling, checked ‘more’ and found a ‘translation’ function. When I chose it, it itself detected the language and then furnished the translation…!
This is Spanish. It is this verb case. It means ‘differentiate.’
…
This was so cool I just started loading random books with foreign words in it and translating them.
I recently read the unabridged Les Miserables, and I feel like between the (then) contemporary cultural references and the untranslated French, I understood maybe 65% of it… if I’m being generous. To think of what a different experience it would be to read it now…!
When I first bought an e-book reader, I thought of it as a handy replacement for books. Lighter, easier to store, more convenient. Now I think of all the ways it makes my reading experience more fulfilling, and I know I could never go back.
Now if I could just get them to let me bundle an author-specific dictionary with an e-book, so that people could touch an alien word and get the right definition… *rubs hands together*
Mirrored from MCAH Online. Tags: books, culture, e-books, kindle, technology
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Createspace is now shipping to customers in the UK and Europe via the Amazon sites specific to those countries! So if you live overseas and have wanted a paperback from me, you can now pick one up for local currency and (more importantly) local shipping charges (or none, if you are signed up for Amazon Prime)!
I have gone ahead and enabled the international options for all my paperbacks, including The Aphorisms of Kherishdar, The Admonishments of Kherishdar, The Worth of a Shell, Even the Wingless, Clays Beneath the Skies, A Rosary of Stones and Thorns and Spots the Space Marine. I just checked today and it looks like the paperbacks are already available! (That was quick…!)
In the future, all my paperbacks will have this option enabled at launch. Let’s hope Createspace continues to expand its reach. I’d love for them to get to Canada next!
I gotta tell you: what a fantastic time to be a writer. I can’t wait to see what’s down the road!
Mirrored from MCAH Online. Tags: books, business, news, writing
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On a more positive note, I decided today (and a little bit of yesterday) that I was just going to sketch for fun, whatever came to mind, and just throw colors on it. Not to overthink it, not to work hard at it… just the equivalent of doodling in color. Here’s what I’ve done since last night:
This has been a ton of fun, folks. And relaxing! Not to say I’m going to give up my fussy huge ambitious projects, but I think I’ve been all yang and not enough yin lately. So I am going to indulge a bit in fluffy doodling, until the impulse passes. -_-
Apropos of this, I am developing my Ten Markers, Ten Days Kickstarter project, which is basically an excuse for people to get little marker sketches like theses from me. I am hoping to launch that as soon as I have a video ready for it! We can all go color-shopping together!
Anyway, enjoy the doodles. I will have nice scans of them (and the “Books I Wish Were Already Finished” series that I started in a fit of pique—just think, you could have caught me complaining about it in real-time on twitter!) as soon as I have the chance, probably early next week.
Mirrored from MCAH Online. Tags: art
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Some of you may have noticed that when you click on the link to the art business book project, it doesn’t appear… and that would be because, with regret, I have canceled the project.
As I mentioned earlier in this post, I had a “salary” goal to make for the year, and I was planning to see how things were looking on June 1st (thus, Business Manager and the calendar). We’re about two weeks out and I’ve looked at the receipts and done some projections on the art business project. Even if it funds—even if it overfunds, to, say, the same degree that Spots did—I still won’t make the mid-year goal. More importantly, projecting outward to the second half of 2012, I don’t see the rest of the money coming in. (If people are interested, I can dissect the projection, but I don’t think it’s relevant for this post.)
So it’s time for me to go back to the workforce. I’ve got some tentative opportunities already, and I’ll need the time to explore those or evolve the job-hunt if they don’t pan out.
I am still planning on attending Anthrocon, and I’ll still be working on Black Blossom. I’m also interested in doing some very short-term projects, like the “Ten Markers, Ten Sketches” Kickstarter, or the One Card Draw. But until I find a job and see what it does to my schedule, I won’t be committing to any new, big projects.
What can I say, folks! Them’s the breaks. Maybe if I’d had less expensive tastes in schools, I’d be staying home! But I am excited about my daughter’s new kindergarten, and it’s worth the price tag to me.
I thank you all for your support of the project, and I’m grateful for your enthusiasm. I’ve shelved the art business book for now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t come back to it some other year! In the mean-time, I will probably be releasing the new chapters I wrote here on the blog, so you’ll still get to enjoy them. And of course, you can still get your fix of Three Micahs-themed mugs, mousepads and postcards. If you’ve already kicked in money toward the book, you should be getting a refund in 25 days.
I hate to do this when so many of you have told me you’re looking so forward to it! Alas! But it’s time to switch gears. As I said, thank you! Maybe we’ll have another chance later.
Mirrored from MCAH Online. Tags: art business book, indiegogo, kickstarter, news, three micahs
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• There was no Black Blossom today; we did not hit the donation cap. We are pretty close, though, so we might get one on Friday. We shall see!
• I am currently moving the wiki from Wikia to MediaWiki over here at wiki.mcahogarth.org. Unfortunately the export/import did not grab the images? Anyone have any experience with this problem? Help would be appreciated.
• I still have three vials of the angelscent. I don’t have payment for these three… if the people who claimed them are still interested, they should tell me, otherwise next week I will offer them up again…! If you paid for one of those vials, you should have it now (or within a day or two).
• I am currently auditioning people to do audiobook versions of some of my works. This is a lot more fun than I expected. >.>
• You can now pre-order the Ursa Majors anthology, which has my story “In the Line of Duty” (as well as a beautiful cover by Blotch). This will be… the third best of/award anthology I’m in, that I recall.
• I have done a lot of sketching lately, and no uploading. Apologies, I hope to do that soon. Related…
• …the website art archive will have a new look as soon as Engineer Sam is done installing it, courtesy of our own @tabard. Thank you, Tabard, for the layout! Thank you, Engineer Sam, for the install!
I think that’s about it for now. There’s stuff going on, but I won’t have much news to show for it for a while. Stay tuned.
Mirrored from MCAH Online.
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We continue Black Blossom, the novel that follows The Aphorisms of Kherishdar and The Admonishments of Kherishdar. It is a form of quasi-communal storytelling, as described here. Feel free to ask questions, converse or react as you wish in the comments; the Calligrapher and I are at your disposal, as time permits us both. And don't fear... your questions are shaping the narrative. Read closely in the future and you may see yourself referred to there. ( Cut for Disturbing Content )I thought the cut-tag was necessary... and we're not done with this scene yet. Anyway, as many of you already surmised, they are discussing the fathrikedi from the Admonishment on passion. You can vote for us on Top Web Fiction here. Please do vote, people find us that way! You can also subscribe, or email for a mailing address to send a physical donation.
Tags: ai-naidar, black blossom, books, serial
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